Lost Girls by Merrie
Destefano
Publication Date:
January 3, 2017
Publisher: Entangled Teen
Fight
Club meets Black Swan—Rachel wakes up in a ditch to find she doesn’t remember
the last year of her life, and that everything—including herself—is vastly
different than she remembers.
Yesterday,
Rachel went to sleep listening to Taylor Swift, curled up in her grammy’s
quilt, worrying about geometry. Today, she woke up in a ditch, bloodied,
bruised, and missing a year of her life.
She
doesn’t recognize the person she’s become: she’s popular. She wears nothing but
black.
Black
to cover the blood.
And
she can fight.
Tell
no one.
She’s
not the only girl to go missing within the last year…but she’s the only girl to
come back. She desperately wants to unravel what happened to her, to try and
recover the rest of the Lost Girls.
But
the more she discovers, the more her memories return. And as much as her new
life scares her, it calls to her. Seductively. The good girl gone bad, sex,
drugs, and raves, and something darker…something she still craves—the rush of
the fight, the thrill of the win—something she can’t resist, that might still
get her killed…
The
only rule is: There are no rules.
Purchase Links:
Excerpt:
Chapter One
I
remember last night perfectly.
I
know what we ate for dinner. I know my little brother didn’t do his homework. I
know Dad drove me to my ballet lessons, then waited for me in the Starbucks
across the street.
I know
that, later in the evening, I fell asleep when I was supposed to be studying
geometry, my earbuds in while I listened to Taylor Swift’s latest album.
That
was my yesterday.
The
problem is, everyone, from my parents to my teachers to the police, says that
stuff didn’t happen yesterday.
It
happened last year.
I
went to sleep with music playing, curled up on my bed, and wrapped in the
afghan Grams knitted for me when she was on chemo.
I
woke up in a ditch, half-buried in a pile of leaves. I was shivering and wet, a
soft rain falling, icy drops hitting me in the face and running down my neck.
Trees towered overhead, black branches scratching the sky, wind howling, and
from somewhere nearby came the muted sounds of traffic.
I
sat up, confused and scared, grogginess giving way to an intense adrenaline
rush.
Then
I screamed, louder than I thought I could. The sound ripped out of my lungs and
wouldn’t stop; it went on and on until I thought I would collapse because I
knew I couldn’t breathe and scream at the same time. And then—when I was sure I
would fall forward, bent over at the waist, my lungs empty and spots dancing
before my eyes—then I found some way to yell again. At first my shouts
were primal and there were no words, just terror and pain and a black pit in my
stomach that wouldn’t allow me to have conscious thoughts.
I
began to cry the same thing, over and over.
“Help!
Somebody help me!”
I
tried to stand, but the gully was so slanted that I kept falling back to my
knees, every stumble forcing me to become aware of another injury—the raw skin
on my wrists and ankles, covered with dried blood and stinging with each drop
of rain; the muscles in my legs sore and weak, like I’d been running for days;
the soles of my feet aching, my tennis shoes ripped and stained with mud.
I
stretched out my arms, latching onto tree roots to gain my balance, and I
pulled myself up the incline, foot by foot. Fingers now coated with mud, I
perched on the edge of a highway, nearly blinded by headlights whenever a car
sped past.
There
I stood, waving my arms and screaming again, not knowing that my hair was
matted or that there was blood and dirt on my clothes or that my photo had been
on the news for the past two weeks.
Lost
girl. Disappeared on her way home from school. Anyone with information, please
contact the Santa Madre police department.
Two
cars drove past, headlights splashing me with brilliant light. I hadn’t
realized until now that the sun tipped on the edge of the world, ready to
disappear, or that twilight shadows were already stretching across the horizon.
Great pockets of violet darkness yawned between each pair of lights that
hurtled toward me, greedy fingers of darkness that wanted me to tumble back
into that gully and remain hidden.
Please,
somebody stop and help me.
I
was screaming again and some sort of weird survival panic took over.
I
walked into the middle of the two-lane southbound road and stood there.
Go
ahead, run me over. I dare you.
Wait,
what was I doing?
Several
cars spun to a stop, skidding sideways, tires squealing, metal crashing metal
and rubber burning. The old me, the girl who fell asleep listening to Taylor
sing about a broken heart, never would have done this. What was wrong with me?
My
heart thundered in my chest, but I refused to move, even when the wreckage
screeched closer and closer, fenders crunching, bumpers twisting, windshields
shattering. I stared all the passengers in the eye, glancing from one face to
the next, coolly noting that none of them were hurt—nothing beyond a bump or a
bruise.
You.
Will. Stop. And. Help. Me.
Still
the wreckage surged forward. I merely lifted one hand, palm up, signaling for
them to stop. Like I was a traffic cop or something.
Everything
finally slid to a stop, a few feet away from me.
Tears
coursed down my cheeks and I began to shake uncontrollably. I sank to my knees,
truly myself again. Frightened and alone and lost.
“Help
me,” I begged, then buried my face in my hands.
Car
doors opened: a strange cacophony of voices tumbled out, some yelling, some
speaking in hushed tones.
“What’s
going on?”
“Is
that the missing girl from the news?”
“9-1-1,
we have an emergency here—”
“Honey,
you’re gonna be okay, don’t worry—”
An
elderly woman with white hair and bright, pink lipstick pulled me close and
draped her coat over me. When I glanced up I saw blood on her forehead, but she
didn’t seem worried about herself. She smiled down at me, her face a map of
connected wrinkles.
“We’re
gonna get you home to your parents,” she said. “Do you want to call them?” She
handed me her cell phone, but my fingers were shaking too much to dial. I told
her the number and she punched it in, waiting while it rang. When a voice
answered on the other end, the white-haired woman said, “I have someone who
wants to talk to you.” Then she handed me the phone.
“Hello?
Who is this?” It was my mom, a frantic tone in her voice that brought fresh
tears to my eyes.
My
words came out shaky, with long pauses between.
“Mom?”
Neither
one of us could talk, not for a long time, because we were both crying. Then
she finally whispered my name, like it was a magical word that could change the
world.
“Rachel?
Rachel, baby, where are you?”
I
looked around. “I don’t know.”
“You’re
on the 39, just north of Azusa,” the white-haired woman told me.
Flashing
lights spun in the distance and sirens blared. An ambulance and a fire truck
and two police cars were headed toward us. I blinked at the brightness,
shielding my eyes with one hand.
“Rachel?
Are you still there?” It was my father’s voice now, calling me back to the cell
phone.
I
pressed it against my ear. “Daddy?”
“Honey,
when the ambulance gets there, you get inside and you stay there. Do you hear
me? Don’t get in a car with anyone else!”
“I
will—I mean, I won’t. I’ll go with the paramedics.” My teeth were chattering
and I was shivering so much I could hardly hold the phone. I think I may have
started talking gibberish, half-sentences with little meaning. I remember
saying something about my geometry test and worrying that I wouldn’t make it to
class tomorrow and I may have mentioned something about my biology class, too,
because Dad interrupted me.
“Rachel,
are you talking about the class you took with Miss Wallace?”
“Yeah.
She always gives exams on Wednesday.”
There
was a long silence. I wondered if we had gotten cut off. Meanwhile, the
ambulance doors opened and someone wheeled a stretcher toward me.
“Honey,
you had geometry with Miss Wallace last year. When you were a sophomore.”
I
frowned. “But I’m a sophomore now.”
“Baby
girl, you’re a junior. Don’t worry about it. All this will get straightened out
when you get home—”
I
dropped the phone. My hands were shaking too much to hold it. I glanced down at
my hands, at the chipped red nail polish. But I hadn’t been wearing nail polish
last night and I never use this color. I turned my hands over and discovered a
tattoo on my inner wrist.
A
tattoo?
Always
and forever. That’s what it said. But there was no
redness or swelling. I didn’t get this tattoo anytime recently.
The
paramedics helped me onto the stretcher, and then the world was rushing past
me, rain falling on my face, people staring down at me as the stretcher wheeled
by, the air thick with the smell of oil and gasoline and burned rubber. Then
another smell came suddenly and violently—a memory.
A
thick, cloying scent of pine and cedar.
My
stomach lurched and I couldn’t stop.
I
started screaming again.
My
Review:
Rachel
wakes up on the side of the road in a ditch filthy covered in bruises and blood
and with memory lost. Rachel went missing two weeks ago but has lost a year of
her life. What has she been doing for that whole year of her life? She knows
the people that say they are her friends but are they really the people she
hangs out with every day? Where is her best friend?
Rachel
is wondering about herself as well, who is this person in her body. Why are all
the clothes in her closet black? Where are all of her pink things? Who is this
girl that is the leader of her group of friends? Where is that shy little girl?
And what about this guy Dylan who says he is her boyfriend? She knows who Dylan
is I mean she has had a crush on him since forever but is he really her
boyfriend? She is a lot stronger and faster now than she use to be and she can
fight. How is that possible? How did she change so much in a year? What
happened to her during those two weeks she was missing?
Rachel
finds out that she has not been the only one to go missing in the last year but
she is the only one to return. Rachel is going to find out what happened to her
during those two weeks. When she finds out about all the other missing girls
she is determined to find them and bring them home as well.
Reading
Rachel’s story will make you stop and think about a lot of things. Like all the
different things that could happen to girls and boys that go missing every day.
Lost Girls could really be someone’s life story. This could really happen to
boys and girls all over the world.
When
I read the summary for Lost Girls I knew I had to read it. I wanted to know
what happened to Rachel during those two weeks she was missing. What I found
out was something that I never expected. Lost Girls will stay with me for a
very long time. I am not sure if I will ever forget Lost Girls. Every time I
hear about a girl or boy missing I will think about Lost Girls.
Author Bio:
CURRENTLY A FULL-TIME NOVELIST and magazine editor, Merrie
Destefano’s next novel, LOST GIRLS, releases on January 3, 2017. Her other
novels include AFTERLIFE and FEAST, both published by HarperCollins, and
FATHOM, which was self-published. The editor of Victorian Homes magazine, she
has also been the editor of American Farmhouse Style, Vintage Gardens, and
Zombies magazine, and was the founding editor of Cottages & Bungalows
magazine.
With 20 years experience in publishing, she worked for a
variety of publishing/broadcasting companies that include Focus on the Family,
The Word For Today, and PJS Publications (now Primedia). Besides editing and
writing, her background includes print buying, writing/producing radio promos,
directing photo shoots, developing new products, writing jacket copy for books,
creating sales media packets and organizing direct mail campaigns.
Born in the Midwest, she currently lives in Southern
California with her husband, two German shepherds, a Siamese cat and the
occasional wandering possum. Her favorite hobbies are reading speculative
fiction and watching old Star Trek episodes, and her incurable addiction is
writing. She loves to camp in the mountains, walk on the beach, watch old
movies, listen to alternative music—although rarely all at the same time.
Giveaway:
All prizes listed
below will be given to one prize winner.
Prizes listed are for a US
winner only; if an International winner is chosen, the prize will be a $50
Amazon gift card.
· 1 - Kindle Fire Tablet, black: 7" Display, Wi-Fi, 8 GB, 1.3
GHz quad-core processor, with the Alexa cloud-based voice service—just press
and ask.
·
1 - digital Kindle copy of LOST GIRLS
·
1 - Pack of 14 vintage-style Swan Lake postcards
·
1 - pr. Black Swan earrings, handmade by author
·
1 - "Always" temporary tattoo
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